


Fine line

by assassi



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Happy Ending, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Miscommunication, Subdrop, Topdrop, Working things out, petopher, trying new things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:13:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23083021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assassi/pseuds/assassi
Summary: “Don’t you get it, moron?”, Peter growled into his face, fangs dropped, claws digging into Chris’ neck. “You haven’t tamed me. I’m not your pet monster. I can still kill you. In a heartbeat. I’m still an animal. Still a predator.”Chris’ mouth tightened into a thin line of anger. He pushed back Peter’s hands, forcefully, not giving a damn for the long bloody lines the talons left on his neck. He said nothing as his own hands gripped the lapels of his shirt and he pulled them aside, bearing his chest, naked and vulnerable. His eyes looked straight into Peter’s, angry and helpless, strong and earnest.“So come the fuck on… monster. Hit me with your best shot”, he hissed back. “Cause if you haven’t figured it out, I’m yours too.”
Relationships: Chris Argent/Peter Hale
Comments: 4
Kudos: 110





	Fine line

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been meaning to write this and have been postponing it for a while till I found the right muse. Like almost everything that I write, it has been inspired by music, more precisely the following songs: The Kill by 30stm, Hurricane by 30stm, Fine Line by Harry Styles, Monsters by Tommee Profitt. Lyrics from each are included inside. Also... I have NO actual idea how the sub/top drop works, aside from what I've read. Some of it sounded like a complete bull, some sounded very REAL like I've tried to present it here. So if you have more experience, do tell :) If you don't but it still clicked and it sounded believable and you liked it, shout out, loudly :D If you see any mistakes, tell me gently :D  
> Love,  
> assassi

It was quiet here. Peaceful. It was obviously a place you went to when you needed to run away from all your troubles. It was beautiful in that detached and slightly too perfect way like it was a postcard come to life, a painting from a different time.

The dirt road was rocky, like a metaphor for their own life and how they had gotten here. The path was obviously rarely used. The silence was loud and painful once the purr of the engine was cut off.

“What’s that?”, Peter muttered.

“A cottage by a lake”, Chris answered, making the wolf roll his eyes.

“I can see that. Why are we here?”

“Do we need a specific reason?”

“Yes.”

“To figure us out then.”

It finally made Peter turn around and look at him. Chris met those sky blue eyes straight on.

“This place is gonna be all ours for three days. There’s not gonna be a single soul here. We’re gonna take a little time off. Relax. Get lost…”

Peter turned back to look out.

_“What if I wanted to break?_

_Laugh it all off in your face?_

_What would you do?”_

* * *

It had all started so stupidly.

It wasn’t anything unusual for a couple to watch porn together. They had been together for a while, done and learned things to and with each other to mostly know what the other liked. But that… that was new territory. Something neither of them had breached yet.

But as the Dom on the video had firmly guided his Sub through another obviously mind-blowing orgasm Peter had looked… interested. And fuck Chris for even thinking it but he had suggested,

“We can try.”

“What, so you can hear me call you sir or master?”, Peter snorted.

“So I can try to mute the constant noise in your head and soothe the chaos in your soul”, Chris rumbled, lips so close to Peter’s that he felt the sharp intake of breath before,

“What makes you think _you_ ’d be the one to quieten _me_?”, Peter sneered. “I don’t submit easily, Argent.”

“That’s the point”, Chris smirked.

If only he’d known how that would play out…

_“_ _No matter how many deaths that I die, I will never forget  
No matter how many lives I live, I will never regret  
There's a fire inside this heart and a riot about to explode into flames_ _…”_

“You will tell me if it’s too much.”

Peter’s breath caught as a black silk cloth took away his sight. He tried to relax but it was impossible. Everything that he was, every single instinct, human and animalistic, told him to fight, to never relinquish any of his senses, to always, always be alert and ready to bolt.

“Hands. On the headboard. Now.”

Fuck, it suited him. Peter hated how much it suited Argent to be the dominant. He should be in charge. He was the predator, he was the one always in…

“That’s good”, Chris rumbled as Peter reluctantly complied, only to feel another silk cloth tie his hands to the wrought iron. Did Argent use his business ties? Peter bit his lip. For reasons unnamed that made it all the hotter.

Lips, chapped and dry, claimed his spit-slicked mouth in a possessive kiss. A voice, rough and demanding, told him to,

“Spread your legs for me.”

And fuck his life but Peter did, willingly and readily.

_“_ _Crisp trepidation  
I'll try to shake this soon  
Spreading you open  
Is the only way of knowing you_ _…”_

Peter never called him master. Never verbally acknowledged his dominance. He didn’t need to since it wasn’t what that was about.

It was about feeling so on the very fucking edge without even having the man inside of him. Not even a single finger. Peter was still wearing too many clothes and they were suffocating him, restraining him; he was sweating in his unbuttoned dress shirt, so painfully hard in his boxers, probably all wet from his precome, as Chris sucked on a nipple, his lips ghosting over Peter’s defined chest and abs, teasing at the edge of his underwear but never going lower, never doing more the way Peter desperately wanted them to. He was a panting mess just from bare _mouthing_ and the slightest of touches, just the tips of calloused fingers on the insides of his thighs. He tried to thrust up but those strong hands immediately restrained him.

“None of that”, the voice chided.

Peter whined. He fucking whimpered. There was an amused huff and then, right next to his ear,

“I want to see you fully surrender to me.”

He was so wound up, so ready to go. It scared him, how his body was not completely his, _again_ , how much at Chris’ mercy he was and it was hard to breathe and he had no control, no fucking control over anything anymore…

Those chapped lips were back, so close to his own that Peter could feel Chris’ ragged breath. And when he spoke they touched, just barely, just the fucking cherry on top of this whole feeling like a life wire.

“You’re doing so well. So well, Peter. Let go. I’ll catch you.”

A long white noise filled his head, for the first time in… forever. It was a blessed silence, a heaven all of his own. He was floating, weightless and held together at the same time, anchored and free, cocooned in safe warmth and laid bare, spread wide open. It should have scared him, such contrasting feelings. Instead it elated him, the way nothing else ever had.

The thing that scared him? Was how much he liked losing his precious control.

* * *

It had felt almost like a transcendent experience. It shook them both, rattled them inside themselves and made it hard to go back to their life.

That… was where things went to hell.

* * *

Peter didn’t know how to deal with it. With that all-encompassing feeling of detachedness, hollowness and wrongness. He felt broken again, just when he had thought that he had gotten his life back on track, had worked so hard for that. He had no idea how to deal with it because he had no idea what that fucking feeling _was_.

So did some research, in places he never wanted to admit about, and came to a conclusion. He had his answer, wrapped in a single word: subdrop.

As mortified as Peter was to admit it, he had to face it. He had a name for what he was going through and a whole list of ways to deal with it. 25 ideas which… didn’t help at all. Most of them were moronic bullshit about cuddling someone of even some _thing_ , making warm drinks and cocooning with them into a warm blanket, taking a bath and doing your nails?! What an epic load of…

Wait. Exercise. That was… a fine idea. He could do that. In a way, he’d done that before; and not just him. Because working out was every true Hale’s way of dealing with practically anything.

* * *

Busing himself with work was Chris’ way to deal. For a while he tried to ignore the elephant in the room until even he had to face it.

It had been a horrible idea. They should have never tried.

It should have helped. It should have brought them closer together. Instead it pulled them apart and Peter had never been so distanced since they had gotten together.

 _Did I fuck up aftercare?_ Chris wondered. _You fuck up everything_ , a small snide voice echoed inside of him.

It had felt so good to be able to give Peter what he needed. He’d looked, felt and sounded so beautiful, so free. Chris had it under control and he was good at it too. What had possibly gone so wrong? He kept running in circles, sure that he was the one to blame but unable to pinpoint exactly when things had gone to hell. He felt worthless and inadequate, stumbling in what was supposed to be his own game.

Maybe that had been his mistake. They were both too old for silly games.

As Peter kept running himself into exhaustion, a plan formed in Chris’ head.

* * *

The cottage was small and quaint, chosen after careful research. The perfect getaway. It wouldn’t immediately fix their problems but it was a start. Now they only had to figure out how to actually communicate: something that had always been a weak point in their relationship.

* * *

_“_ _Put a price on emotion  
I'm looking for something to buy  
You've got my devotion  
But man, I can hate you sometimes_ _…”_

It got cold in the evening, here by the lake. Peter watched as the sun sank lower, painting the still water in orange, gold and purple. He still wasn’t back to himself. He still didn’t know what they were doing there in the first place.

A warm blanket was wrapped around his shoulders. A bowl of steaming hot soup landed softly on the table in front of him. Chris sat opposite from him and nodded at the food.

“You should eat.”

It should have calmed him; made him smile, the care that Chris obviously put behind those simple words. Instead, it annoyed him, scared him, made him feel skittish where he should be proud and sure of himself. Had Chris read the same article about subdrop and aftercare and what to do with your messed up partner? Was that what the blanket and soup were for, cocoon him, warm him, make him feel safe cause he’s obviously the weak and whiny submissive party?

Like hell.

He pushed the bowl to the side, uncaring when the contents spilled.

“I don’t need your comfort food. And I don’t need your pity”, he hissed.

Chris frowned, uncomprehending. “What?”

Something snapped. He reached out and wrapped a hand around Chris’ neck, squeezing tight.

“Don’t you get it, moron?”, Peter growled into his face, fangs dropped, claws digging into Chris’ neck. “You haven’t _tamed_ me. I’m not your pet monster. I can still kill you. In a heartbeat. I’m still an animal. Still a predator.”

Chris’ mouth tightened into a thin line of anger. He pushed back Peter’s hands, forcefully, not giving a damn for the long bloody lines the talons left on his neck. He said nothing as his own hands gripped the lapels of his shirt and he pulled them aside, bearing his chest, naked and vulnerable. His eyes looked straight into Peter’s, angry and helpless, strong and earnest. 

“So come the fuck on… monster. Hit me with your best shot”, he hissed back. “Cause if you haven’t figured it out, I’m yours too.”

Fearless and open, all cards on the table.

_I’m yours too._

Another something snapped. Something slotted itself in the right place. Something clicked.

Peter reached out, this time to drag his partner closer and claim his lips in a possessive kiss.

_“_ _Are we the hunters  
Are we the hunted  
Are we the monsters  
Show me the fear under your skin  
Life is a game, are you gonna play now  
Should I run away are you gonna stay now_ _…”_

Chris groaned as Peter slammed him into a wall, greedy hands gripping his ass, lifting him up, wrapping his legs around a trim waist as Peter kissed and bit his neck, leaving possessive kisses. Once he had secured Chris’ legs around him, his restless hands roamed Chris’ body, gripping, squeezing, needing. His hips kept thrusting, grinding an obvious erection into Chris’ answering hardness.

It should have scared him, how out of control Peter looked, how mindless with passion and _need_. It just made him all the more aroused. He leaned his head back, giving Peter more space to mouth his neck, grinding back into the wolf, welcoming anything Peter gave, wordlessly telling him he was just as affected as the werewolf. Peter growled, kissing him hard and demanding, tongues battling messily as Peter gripped Chris’ shirt and just ripped it right off, panting in his neck. His hands slipped lower, gripping the hunter’s jeans. Their eyes met briefly, just enough. Chris nodded. Peter growled again, ripping the jeans off as well, tearing them bit by bit right off Chris’ body, never once letting his legs fall off from around his waist.

Two demanding fingers pushed past Chris’ willing lips and knew the drill: they had no lube around and no patience to go the few steps to the bedroom and retrieve some. He sucked on the long digits, coating them as best as he could: it would have to do. Peter moaned, biting his lip as he finally slipped them out and dragged them down and between Chris’ cheeks, inserting the first immediately. Chris groaned, forcing himself to relax quicker and accept the second finger, trying to move and help Peter stretch him quicker. Even as the fingers probed and scissored Chris knew it would sting at best and hurt like hell at worst: it had been some time since they done it this way and Chris braced himself for it as their eyes met again and he saw Peter’s raw need. He nodded, and something squeezed his heart as Peter hesitated, even as it was obvious he ached for it; he didn’t want to hurt him.

“I can take it, come on”, Chris panted. Peter still held back. “I want to.”

The wolf gasped on a choked-off moan, sliding inside him in one firm stroke, making Chris yell and throw his head back, hitting the wall with a dull thud. His hands gripped Peter’s still clad shoulders as they both took their time to adjust panting in each other’s necks.

“Go on”, he wheezed.

Peter’s thrusts were firm but slow at first and it was obvious he was trying to hold himself back; his hands gripped Chris’ thigs painfully hard, his breath was hitched and rattling in his heaving chest. Chris claimed his lips in a short but passionate kiss, just as much as they could handle right now, and snapped his hips up, meeting Peter, urging him on. The wolf growled and bit him, a silent reprimand and a warning that he could snap and was close to it. Chris bit back and squeezed tighter.

Peter threw away all caution and started thrusting in earnest, hips snapping hard and fast in a wild frenzy. Just as Chris had surrendered to it, Peter stopped and changed the angle… twice, till he found what he was looking for and Chris half-gasped, half-sobbed as Peter nailed his sweet spot and kept on hitting it, getting him all the closer to a spectacular end. Their eyes met again, just for a split second before Chris’ orgasm overtook him and he cried out, eyes slipping shut, legs slipping from their hold around Peter’s waist, toes curling. Only Peter’s quick reflexes and werewolf strength held him up as Peter roared and finished inside him, drawing a weak moan out of Chris’ dry throat.

It took a moment or a small eternity before Peter slipped out carefully and carried him into the bathroom. There was no bathtub and they were too wrung out for anything but a quick rinse, Peter mostly supporting Chris’ weight. He washed away their come but then his hands lingered on Chris’ hips, making the hunter frown, confused, and look down. Black lines disappeared up Peter’s forearms along with the dull ache. _This_ was aftercare. _This_ is what he should have done…

Peter’s lips found his again and silenced his demons. At least for now.

* * *

Well, what did you know. Stiles was right after all and Peter was a creep.

But as he lay there next to Chris, soft and rumpled and real, he felt no remorse that he _watched him sleep_ in the cottage’s too small bed. His partner looked peaceful if a little wrung out. Peter checked for any residual pain and was pleased to find only a dull throb that he drew away too. Chris hummed and moved closer, unconsciously seeking out Peter’s warmth.

Some unknown, unnamed feeling curled inside Peter’s chest. It wasn’t hollow anymore. It was… warm and nice. It was way, way better than all that crap about blankets, cocoons, hot drinks and doing your fucking nails. Peter flexed his hand and examined his claws. Yep, they were fine, were claws. Perfect for, say, tearing apart clothes. His eyes found the heap of Chris’ destroyed jeans and shirt and he smiled.

Way fucking better than that 25-things-crap.

* * *

When Peter returned from his light morning run Chris was leaning on the side of the cottage, eating an apple. He was wearing a black sleeveless shirt, his shoulder tattoo on display as he eyed Peter up and down with a devilish smile. He nodded at the lake.

“Wanna take a swim?”

Peter considered the offer. He must have taken a minute too long because Chris reached out, expression open and earnest when he said,

“Come be with me. Not as a Dom and Sub. Just as Peter and Chris. Just us.”

Peter took the hand.

* * *

Maybe he was wound up by his morning run. Maybe this whole ‘vacation’ wound him up. Maybe seeing Chris wet and dripping from their childish splashing in the lake made him throw his partner on the wooden pier and crawl between his spread legs in a move that was _anything but_ childish.

The sound Chris made as Peter swallowed him whole only spurred him further. The sounds Chris kept making, along with his small abortive thrusts into Peter’s mouth and the way he threw his head back as if abandoning any and all inhibitions pushed Peter so close, so fast that his eyes crossed. He kept on sucking, using every little trick and every dirty move to make Chris finish first, which he did with a hoarse cry, before Peter wrapped a hand around himself and jerked off, quick and hard over the hunter’s sated body, his release painting Chris’ tight six pack and marking him as Peter’s.

Judging by the way Chris shook his head he knew exactly what Peter was doing. Judging by his fond smile he didn’t mind at all.

They were still catching their breath when Chris groaned, making Peter look up with an inquisitively lifted eyebrow.

“What?”, he asked, voice wreaked.

Chris bit his lip at the sound, twitching slightly. Or maybe it wasn’t just renewed interest judging by his next words.

“I think I have a wooden splint in my ass.”

Peter snorted. “I rather hope that’s not your way of _asking_ and calling my…”

“No, dumbass. A real splint. From the pier.”

Peter burst laughing and after a moment Chris reluctantly joined him. Peter rested his brow against Chris’, both of them gradually calming down from their chuckles.

“I missed that sound”, Chris admitted.

Peter smiled and leaned down for a chaste kiss.

* * *

By now he should be used to that softer look Chris had when it was just the two of them: the thick framed reading glasses, the slightly longer scruff; the plaid shirt was a new addition and Peter blamed their remote getaway and corny movies that suggested such outfit was preferable when out of the city. He’d always loved the way Chris smoked, looking all gruff and masculine in one moment and then soft and domestic when he held his phone along with his cigarette, browsing something.

Chris felt his eyes on him and looked up, a silent question in his own pale blue orbs.

“What does it feel like?”, Peter found himself asking.

“Hm? What does what feel like?”, Chris frowned.

“Loving me”, Peter whispered.

Because by now there was no question, no doubt inside him that Chris loved him. Corny, mushy and stupid as the question was, he wanted to know.

A small soft smile crawled on Chris’ face.

“Like loving a force of nature”, he admitted. “Wild. Untamable. Not that I ever wanted to tame you. It would just feel wrong.”

Peter smiled back and went to straddle his partner’s strong thighs, facing him.

“Loving you feels like having the rug ripped right underneath my feet, just when I thought I had it all sorted out, all under control. And then I’m flying back down into a chasm”, Peter said.

Chris shook his head. “It’s not the same…”

“How so? Are you in my head to tell?”, Peter teased.

“No. I’m here to catch you. Right at the bottom of the chasm”, Chris countered.

The teasing smile slipped from Peter’s face. “Yeah”, he said. “Yeah, you are.”

The kiss they shared was soft, unhurried, full of everything they rarely talked about but always expressed, each and every day, through little gestures and small intimate touches, through each mistake and every stumble that led them where they were now.

_“_ _We'll be a fine line  
We'll be alright_ _”_


End file.
